


Farley (Mothman)

by TheTravelerWrites



Series: Monster Lovers: Hidden Creatures [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Exophilia, FTM Trans, Human/Monster Romance, Human/Mothman, Monster Boyfriend, Mothman Boyfriend, Other, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Surgery, Terato, human/monster, top surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTravelerWrites/pseuds/TheTravelerWrites
Summary: As a trans man prepares to undergo top surgery, he meets a creature who has an innate understanding of his predicament, if from a slightly different perspective.





	Farley (Mothman)

You were running, plain and simple. You couldn’t stand being home anymore. Your parents didn’t understand you and your friends had distanced themselves from you. You’d had no support whatsoever when you came out. No one could accept you for who you knew you were, and you just had to get away from them.

The only person who was at all supportive of you was your great-aunt Magdalena everyone thought was crazy. She lived alone in a cabin in the hills two states away. You weren’t even exactly sure how you were related to her, but you didn’t care. She offered to let you stay in her cabin while you had your surgeries. She was the only person willing to give you the chance to become your true self.

When you arrived, she rushed out to meet you, arms open, wearing a fur coat despite the eighty degree heat. It felt so good to be welcomed somewhere, anywhere.

“Leanna!” She said, then stopped herself, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, you don’t go by Leanna anymore, do you? What name did you choose?”

You told her, and she smiled. “Oh, how handsome. Let’s get you in, baby. Are you tired?”

“A little. Thanks for putting me up, Aunt Magda,” You said, feeling a little vulnerable.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, darling,” She said, ushering you inside. “Now, have you got the surgery scheduled yet?”

“No, but I go to see the doctor next week. We’re supposed to schedule it then. She wants to make sure I’ve been on the T-treatments for long enough and have a conference with my therapist and reassignment counselor before moving forward.”

“How long have you been taking T?” She asked.

“Two years,” You replied.

“Is that long enough?”

“For the top surgery, yeah. I could have had it done six months after treatment began, actually, but I didn’t have enough money then.” You paused and grimaced. “Or support.”

“Well, don’t you worry, sugar plum,” Aunt Magda said. “You stay here as long as you need to, okay?”

Her genuine kindness and unquestioning acceptance made you feel a bit like crying after all the rejection you had faced, but you sucked it up and smiled gratefully. “Thanks. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

She took your hand and patted it, leading you into the cabin.

It was small and cozy, if a little dated. You doubted there was wifi: she didn’t even have a cable box attached to the 70’s-style TV, just an old VCR. There were doilies and crochet coverings over the the furniture and beaded curtains covering the doorways. It was the quintessential kooky old lady set-up, and you loved it.

“So, there are a few rules,” She said. “I don’t like loud music and I go to bed at eight. Please be sure to keep yourself occupied in a quiet fashion while you’re here.”

“I will, Magda, I promise,” You said dutifully.

“I make breakfast at seven, so if you want anything other than a bowl of cereal, you best get up early.”

“Noted,” You said, grinning.

“Lastly, never go into the attic. The floor up there is not stable and I’d really rather you didn’t crash through the roof,” She warned.

“Got it,” You said pleasantly. The rules didn’t seem so bad, but you’d have agreed to just about anything she asked at this point.

She pinched your cheeks fondly and hooked and arm in yours. “Let’s get you to your room, then. Is that all you brought with you?” She motioned at your one suitcase.

“Yeah, it’s all I needed. Mom wouldn’t let me keep any guy clothes at the house, so I only have a few changes and my computer.”

“Well, maybe next week before your appointment, we’ll go get you a snappy new suit. What do you think about that, young man?”

You smiled at her. “That sounds amazing, Aunt Magda. You’re the best.”

“You bet I am,” She said, laughing.

Later that night, or well, in the morning if you were honest, you had removed your binders and were sitting in a tank top and gym shorts, watching a movie on your computer with your earbuds in. You always had problems with insomnia, but recently it had been pretty bad. You weren’t sure why; it was probably a combination of things.

The movie ended and you started up a show you had downloaded the last season of, pausing it for a moment so you could go to the kitchen and get a snack. That’s when you heard it: muffled voices coming through the air conditioning grate. The house had old, victorian-style ventilation shafts running through it and it allowed noise to travel, which is likely why Aunt Magda had insisted on a quiet house.

You got closer to the grate and listened, but you had trouble making out any words. You frowned but shrugged it off. Maybe Aunt Magda had a TV in her room. In any case, you had season three of a trashy werewolf drama that wasn’t going to watch itself.

Magda was as good as her word and before your appointment with the doctor, she bought you a very stylish black suit, complete with matching dress shirt, socks, and shoes. The tie and waistcoat were black with an elegant silver paisley pattern. You’d heard never to match your pocket square with your tie, so you chose an elegant red handkerchief for a pop of color.

You had dealt with body dysphoria for most of your life, since you were a small child, but looking in the mirror now in the small tailor shop, standing proud and tall in your first real suit, you saw the man you always wanted to be reflected back at you. You couldn’t help but smile.

Magda was beside herself with delight, telling you how handsome you looked and what a lovely-looking man you grew up to be. You knew she was trying a little too hard, but after so many of the people you thought loved you refused to try at all, it was a pleasant change.

Magda went with you to your appointment, and it was decided that you would be going ahead with the surgery. You were both excited and terrified. You’d never had a surgery before but you were finally ready to feel like yourself.

The surgery would be in a week, which would give you time to get things ready for your recovery. You wouldn’t be able to lift things for a few weeks, not even a gallon of milk, so you’d have to make some adjustments to your room setup to make things a little easier. You even purchased a rolling computer table and a hand cart so that you could move things around a little easier.

That night, after you thanked Magda over and over for her help and for the new suit, she went to bed and you went out to the back porch, sitting with a beer in hand, enjoying the night air. You had your headphones in and were listening to your calm mix and looking out over the pond next to the house, trying to ease your nerves.

You were very relaxed and had started to doze off when you saw a shadow pass through your closed eyelids. You eyes snapped open and you turned just in time to see someone enter the attic window at the very top of the cabin.

You shot to your feet and pulled out your pocket knife. The last thing Magda needed was an intruder way out here. It’d take forever for the police to get out here. You went in and pulled down the stairs to the attic, carefully traipsing up the steps in an effort to be silent.

You saw a shape, large and undefined in the low light, moving about in the shadow. It walked lightly on the boards, careful not to put a foot through the insulation.

Slowly, you reached for the chain that turned on the overhead light and held your knife out in front of you.

“Stop right there, whoever you are!” You said as light flooded the attic. The… person… crouched low and squeaked loudly, like a mouse being tread on. They appeared to be wearing a fuzzy green and white coat.

“Who are you?” You asked them.

“I’m Farley,” They said, still cowering in the corner.

“What are you doing in here?” You demanded.

“I live here!” They said.

“What?” You said, lowering your knife despite yourself. “No you don’t, this is my Aunt Magda’s house. She lives here alone.”

They stood straight up then, turning around excitedly. “You’re Magda’s nephew? She’s been talking about you for months! She didn’t tell me you were already here!”

Now that they were standing up, you realized the coat they were wearing wasn’t a coat. It was wings. They were as fuzzy and green with little brown dots along the edge that gave the impression of eyes. There were fern-like antennae crowning their head and their eyes were black with multifaceted pupils and no iris. They had dainty little feet and four arms with teeny, tiny hands. Green tan, and white fuzz covered their entire body.

They suddenly seemed to realize you were about to scream, and came forward swiftly, one hand covering your mouth and another grasping your arm firmly to keep you from jabbing them with your knife.

“Don’t scream,” they warned. “Magda will be very upset if she knows you’re up here. We’ll both be in trouble.”

You simply stared at them with wide eyes and allowed him to take the knife from your hand.

“I’m going to let you go now,” They said slowly. “Don’t freak out.”

You nodded, your eyes still very wide, and they gradually removed their hands from your mouth and arm.

“So,” They started uncertainly. “I’m sure you have questions…”

“What _are_ you?” You asked.

They shrugged. “A moth…man? I guess? I don’t really know. Magda found me years ago as a larva. She’s taken care of me since.”

“Are there more like you?” You asked.

“I don’t know,” He said, shrugging. “I assume there must be, since I was an egg and then a larva. Someone had to lay me, after all.” He grimaced. “That sounds weird.”

You surprised yourself by chuckling. “Yeah, a little.” You ran a hand through your hair. “You knew about me?”

His face lifted a little. “Yeah, Magda told me about you. That you used to be her niece and now you’re her nephew?” He tilted his head a little. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Oh,” You said, a little wierded out by having to explain the concept of being trans to a creature you didn’t even know existed ten minutes ago. “I was born a girl, but I knew from an early age that I was supposed to be a boy. I’m going to be having surgery soon so that my outside reflects how I feel on the inside.”

“Huh,” He said, thinking. “Transitioning from one form to another.”

“Yes, exactly,” You said enthusiastically. “Did Magda explain it to you?”

“No, not in detail,” He replied. “She did give me the impression that most humans find it strange or even bad. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” You said reluctantly. “Most of my family have disowned me.”

“I don’t understand,” He said, frowning. “I mean, it’s not like I was born like this.” He motioned to his large, furry body. “I had to transition three times to become what I am now. All moths do. How is that different?”

“I guess people think you should just be happy with how you’re born and not try to change it,” You said. “Although, people get plastic surgery and enhancements all the time, so I don’t see how this is all that different.”

You weren’t too proud to admit you were just a little bit salty on this topic. Your sister had gotten a boob job, liposuction, and butt lift a few years ago, and your parents were all too happy to support her with that.

“Will it hurt?” He asked worriedly.

“I don’t know,” You said honestly, sitting suddenly on an overturned plastic bucket. “I mean, they’ll be cutting me open and taking things out, so I imagine there will be some pain, but they said there could be some numbness and loss of feeling, so I’m not sure..”

He crouched down next to you. “Are you scared?”

“Yeah,” You admitted. “But I also want to be myself. I want to be able to look at myself and not feel like I’m in someone else’s body. I want to get rid of _these_.” You gestured in a frustrated motion at your chest and growled. “These don’t belong here. I want them gone.” You huffed a laugh. “I’ll be really glad when I don’t have to bind anymore.”

“Bind?”

You nodded and pulled up your shirt to show him. “I feel less uncomfortable with my body when I can’t see them under my clothes. The bindings help with that.”

“The surgery will take those away?” He motioned at your chest.

“Yep. Finally.”

“It sounds rather jarring,” He said. “Although, during my last transition, my skin hardened into a shell and my insides turned to goo, so I don’t know if I’m in any position to judge your methods.”

You laughed. “I don’t know which sounds worse to me, surgery or goo.”

He laughed with you.

“Why doesn’t Magda want me to know about you?” You asked him.

“She’s very protective of me,” He said. “She was worried you’d be afraid or tell someone about me, and I’d be taken away from her. She couldn’t have kids and her husband left her many years ago, so I’m all she has.”

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense,” You said. “I will admit I was a bit startled. Do you stay up here all the time?”

“Mostly,” Farley replied. “I’m too big to go downstairs often. I tend to knock things over. I go down sometimes when she needs help. She’s getting older now and can’t move like she used to.”

“How long have you been here with her?”

“Hmm…” He thought about it, counting on his tiny fingers. “Forty years or so? Maybe less. I dunno. It’s hard to remember things like that. We’ve both been happy here. That’s the only thing that matters. Paying attention to the time as it passes dulls the effect of the present. That’s what she says, anyway.”

“That sounds like Magda,” You laughed. “Well, I am glad I met you. You and Magda are the only people who’ve ever even tried to understand. Her support has been… I can’t explain how much…” You stuttered to a stop as you felt tears come to your eyes.

You’d been suppressing your feelings for quite a long time; the fear, confusion, pain, rejection, and hate you had felt from your family, and then Magda’s unconditional support and Farley’s instant, unreserved understanding on top of the huge, confusing emotional pile, it was all welling up in you and couldn’t be restrained anymore.

Once the tears started to fall, you couldn’t stop them, and before long you were sobbing uncontrollably. He knelt to your right and laid his left two hands on your back, patting softly, making a soft, pleasant chittering noise of concern.

You cried until your head hurt and you sniffled to a stop. “I am sorry,” You said, wiping your swollen face. “I didn’t mean for all that to come out now.”

“No, it’s okay,” He said gently. “It seems like you needed to do that. Do you feel any better?”

“Strangely, yes,” You said, taking a very deep breath.

“When is the surgery?”

“Five days from now. I’ll be in the hospital for most of the day, unless there is complications, and then Magda will bring me home.”

“I’ll be thinking of you,” He said. He didn’t seem to realized that was a strange thing to say.

You head rocked bock. “That’s… very sweet.” You suddenly felt a little shy and couldn’t help thinking how soft his fur must be to the touch, and then mentally smacked yourself. This was an attic creature you literally just met. Don’t be weird. You weren’t _that_ touch starved.

Don’t lie to yourself: yes, you were.

“Should I tell Magda I’ve met you?”

“I’ll tell her,” He said. “She comes in the morning to give me breakfast very early. It’ll be better coming from me than you. She might be less annoyed at me.”

“Okay,” You agreed. You looked around at his wings thoughtfully.

He looked around at them and they fluttered. “What?”

“Can you actually fly?”

He laughed. “Of course I can. It’s not as pretty as a bird or as precise as a dragonfly, but I can.” He tilted his head with a smile. “Why?”

You shrugged with a smile on your face. “I used to have dreams where I was flying through the air, weightless. It was a comforting dream. Got me through a lot. I always wondered what it actually felt like.”

“Well,” He said, carefully getting to his feet. “Since soon you’ll be house bound, why don’t I take you flying?”

“Oh, I wasn’t insinuating--”

“I know,” He said, smiling. “Does that mean you don’t want to go?”

You grinned and took his hands. He carefully guided you over the floor, showing you which boards to step on so you didn’t fall through the ceiling, and opened the attic window. He stood behind you and wrapped all four of his arms around your torso, holding you in a surprisingly strong grip. You could feel his fuzz on your arms and the back of your neck and you shivered.

“Ready?” He breathed in your ear.

“Let’s do it,” You replied, grinning into the wind.

When you woke up from the surgery, you were extremely nauseated and sore, and the pain medication they had given you made you more so. They ended up keeping you overnight until you stopped vomiting and released you when you were able to go to the bathroom on your own.

The drains they had installed were the most uncomfortable part about it all. You had to wear ace bandages to prevent the fluid retention, but that wasn’t all that much different than binding. There was pressure and pulling and it felt incredibly unnatural. All you wanted to do when you got back was take a shower, but you weren’t even allowed to do that.

It’ll be worth it, you kept telling yourself. It’ll be worth it in the end. Just tough it out.

Farley actually met you at the door when you got home, which surprised you. Over the week that you had been acquainted with him, you had become close shockingly fast. Magda seemed to notice, but kept her thoughts on the matter to herself.

Farley helped you to your room and got you comfortable and Magda went to make you something you could eat comfortably.

“How are you feeling?” He asked anxiously.

“A little out of it,” You said. “I think it’s the pain meds doing that, though.”

“Are you in pain?” He asked, fluffing your pillows.

“No, not really,” You said. “I’m actually surprised at how little I actually feel. The doctor did say this could happen. There’s just this unyielding sense of pressure.” You shifted uncomfortably. “To be honest, just having this shirt on is too much pressure.”

“Do you want me to help you get it off?”

“Let’s wait on that,” You said, still feeling self conscious.

Even though Farley understood transitioning perfectly well, he was a little less solid on the concept of dysphoria. The idea that a person could dislike aspects of their own body to the point of feeling strange or even disgusted wasn’t something he quite comprehended. He had even, at one point, mentioned that he thought you were very attractive, with or without the offending body parts, and you didn’t know how to process that.

You spent most of the first two days sleeping, and Farley was there whenever you woke up, asking if you needed anything and helping you to stand. You’d even woke up to find him reading your post-op literature, trying to determine how best to help you. You drifted back to sleep thinking how sweet he was.

After a few days, Madga took you back to the doctor to get your wrappings checked. She told you you were clear to start showering, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

That is, until you tried to take a shower. It was later that evening, after Magda had gone to bed, and you had the water running only to realize you couldn’t get your shirt off by yourself. You were completely unable to lift your arms above your head. You tried a few times, only to give up, sitting on the toilet and weeping pitifully.

Farley must have heard you from the attic, because he peeked his head into the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”

“I want to take a shower,” You sobbed, hoping he could understand your dejected mumble. “I can’t get my shirt off.”

“Oh,” He said, coming in. “Let me help.”

You nodded weakly, and he very gently took your arm and pulled the sleeve off of it without tugging the stretched skin. He then unwrapped the ace bandages and carefully set them aside.

It was the first time you had been naked from the waist up in front of someone other than a doctor is quite a long time, and you were startled to realize you didn’t mind him seeing you this way.

“Will you help with the shower, too, please?” You asked. “I need to wash my hair.”

“Yeah, of course,” He said as you maneuvered your sweatpants and undergarments off. He helped you into the tub and you stood with your back to the water, and he washed your hair for you. He also scrubbed your back and down your legs so that you didn’t have to bend. He was quick and efficient, and he held out a towel to wrap around you when he was done.

You took the towel and dried yourself as best you could before catching your reflection in the mirror. Thoughtfully, you let the towel drop, looking at your completely naked body for the first time since your surgery.

He watched you curiously, observing your contemplative expression. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m just wondering if I should go further,” You said.

“Further?”

“Get _this_ ,” you waved your hand crotchward, “done, too.”

“Is it something you’ve been thinking about?”

“Not before now,” You said. “ _This_ part,” You waved at your chest, “was always the biggest problem. Now that that’s taken care of, I’m wondering what else can be done.” You sighed, looking down. “At the same time, I’m worried about the sensations changing.”

“Sensations?”

“Yeah,” You said, trying not to blush noticeably. “During sex. I really enjoy sex, and I know bottom surgery could change how it feels.”

“Oh,” He said. You weren’t very good at gauging his facial expressions, but you thought he might be a little flustered, perhaps noticing that you were both naked and talking about sex. You then wondered if he’d ever had sex.

“I don’t have all that much dysphoria about it, so I don’t suppose it’s something I need to do. I’m happy with what I have right now. I don’t want to go forward with it unless I’m absolutely sure.”

“I think that’s wise,” He said, reaching to put the towel back around you. “You should be comfortable in your own skin. You’ve made great strides toward that, but there’s no reason to go farther than you need to.”

“Yeah,” You agreed, allowing him to cover you. “I’m tired.”

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” He said, leading you out of the bathroom.

The drains were removed a few days later, and you were glad to be rid of them, though you would have to wear the ace bandages for a while longer. It was another week before you were able to start lifting things again. Farley took very good care of you during that time.

One evening, while Farley was out taking flight as he did every night to stretch his wings and get some fresh air, Magda came out to sit with you on the porch, a glass of wine in her hands.

“You’re up late,” You said as she sat down next to you. “You okay?”

“You like Farley, don’t you?” She asked.

“Of course, I do,” You said. “Who wouldn’t like him, he’s a sweetheart.”

“No, honey, I mean you _like_ him. You have feelings for him. Right?”

You hadn’t been able to admit that to yourself, but having been asked a direct question, you couldn’t deny it.

“Would it bother you if I did?” You asked cautiously.

Magda sighed. “I’m old, darling. I won’t be around forever. And I don’t like the idea of Farley being alone once I’m gone. I’ve been selfish with him these last few years, but what’s he going to do when I’m not here?”

You hadn’t thought about that. Magda seemed like one of those elderly women who would always be knocking about. You hadn’t realized she was contemplating her own mortality, or the fate of her ward once she succumbed to it.

“I do like Farley very much,” you said. “He’s been incredible to me the last few weeks. I’ve never met anyone so understanding or kind. I hate the idea of him being alone.”

“As do I,” She said, taking a sip from her glass. “You’re a good boy, and Farley likes you. I don’t want either of you to be hurt or alone.”

You smiled a little. “Are you trying to set me up with your moth son?”

She laughed. “I’m trying.” She looked out at the night sky, searching for him. “I just want him to be happy, and I think you could do that for him. And I think he could do that for you, too.”

“You certainly make a good argument,” You said. “And I don’t have a rebuttal.”

She nodded, satisfied, and drained her glass. “Talk to him. He’ll be back soon. I’m going to bed.”

“G’night, Magda,” You said as she went back inside. As you turned back to look out over the lawn, you saw a shadow pass under the moon and smiled.

 


End file.
